


Blue Moons

by Nevijek



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Adultery, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Eventual Smut, F/M, Fantasizing, Hate to Love, Hatred, Love/Hate, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 09:31:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18312893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevijek/pseuds/Nevijek
Summary: When Liam fell in love with a Dark Ranger, Genn Greymane did not accept it. He did everything in his power to split them apart, and succeeded, but that decision set a chain of events in motion that ultimately claimed the life of his son. Hating Sylvanas for his death, as her arrow took his life, Genn thought vengeance was what drove him to pursue the Banshee Queen, but he was wrong.





	Blue Moons

Genn Greymane gripped the frame tightly in his bare hands. Every night, he came to his study and held Liam’s picture. His smiling face brought pangs of remorse that ultimately gave way to anger. His wife Mia told him to let go, to not allow the hatred to corrode him, but how could he abandon the only emotion that kept him alive after losing his son? How could she — the mother of their precious child — withstand the pain and injustice of his murder with such equanimity? He could not. Genn could not stand or accept it. His eyes shut tightly, the veins in his neck bursting as he strained to control the worgen who threatened to take over. The last thing he wanted was to see that form, to be that animal, to let himself go. He couldn’t promise he wouldn’t end up somewhere that he should not, if he did. His emotions were pulled taut enough and if _she_ provoked him again it would be catastrophic. And he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, he would end up where she was. As he always did. Watching her, hunting the huntress, gave him a sense of control. Genn was aware that she knew he was out there, trailing her. She let him. Sylvanas Windrunner let him chase her. The game thrilled her as much as he loathed to admit it excited him, too. She had always possessed a strange power to unnerve him, to make him lose control, and it had become an addiction. To give into his primal instincts, to dive into the sea of his darkest thoughts, for she was unworthy of honor or consideration or any of the virtues that bound the animal prowling under his skin.

Genn repudiated the existence of the Forsaken. This much was known to everyone, including his son. For years, Liam kept the affair a secret. He snuck away to lay with one of her Dark Rangers because the evil creature had bewitched him with her foul magic. Inexperienced as his son had been, he had not seen the plot behind the love he was more than certain an undead monster could not feel; they wanted to slip into Gilneas and take it from within. Sylvanas had orchestrated everything. He was sure of this. She — and all of her monsters — had been the cause of his son’s demise.

 _“Liam died because he wanted to save a father who did not deserve his sacrifice._ **_That_ ** _is what eats you up, old wolf. You want to blame me because it would be easier to destroy me than shred yourself apart. You can fool everyone, but I see_ **_you._ ** _I see what you deny yourself.”_

Genn snarled. He wanted to chase her and demand she take back her lies. She would not retract. She never did. She would repeat the venomous words, relishing in the pain they caused him. A part of him, deep down, knew she was right. Knew it in his soul. He had not deserved his son’s sacrifice. He had been a negligent father, a terrible king. He still was, in many ways. He resented that she saw his broken pieces when he could not find even a crack in her defenses. Their last meeting had been like all others; an angry duel that ended in a stalemate. What they had was a dangerous dance. He did not understand. She had the power to kill him. She had the ability to shoot a dozen arrows before he could even reach her, yet she did not. And in those moments where she allowed his worgen so dangerously close to her thin neck, Genn could have struck and snapped it with his powerful mandible. Why did _he_ not? Genn had wanted, had _fantasized,_ about ripping her apart. She was an abomination. She was an unholy, unnatural and offensive thing. A banshee. A spirit of malice. How many times had he let the chance slip through his fingers like water? Too many. Far more than he could count.

The fire of anger erupted into a powerful explosion and he found it pooled painfully in his loins. Groaning, he tossed his head back, the confusion of his condition made all the worse by the flashing images that ripped through him. That delicate neck, which he could have sank his fangs into, which he still wanted to, but only to hear her moan his name. He liked the way she said it, the way she dipped the syllables of his surname with bittersweet contempt. He saw the swell of her hips as she walked away, knowing well he would not attack. He could see those supple breasts, constrained by her metal armor, imagined himself peeling it off from her, feeling the mounds in his hands, taking them into his mouth, extracting wails of pleasure from her dark lips. He wanted to feel her against him, to know if she was truly as cold as they said she was, and it disgusted him that the mere thought had him fully erect.

It had been so long since he had been intimate with Mia. Liam’s death had ruptured something fundamental, something neither had bothered to put back together. He handled his needs himself. Never once considering laying with another. He was married and he would die married to Mia. Not once in his life had thoughts of another intruded so vividly, much less of the woman he most hated in the world.

_She must have bewitched me, too._

Necromancy was a powerful, foul magic. Had it not taken his son? Sylvanas was a master of it. In one of their duels, in one of those many nights they had met in the forest, with only the moon as the witness of their hateful dance, she must have cast a spell on him. She must have done something sinister to transform his feelings into burning lust — in a _need_ for a dead thing. As Genn palmed himself over his tight leather pants, he forced his thoughts to turn to Mia. His wife had been and still was _beautiful._ He surrendered to memories of those times where they had burned with the passion of youth, those wild nights before the children were born where they danced by the fire, naked and yearning. Genn held her tightly against him, leading them to the sound of their favorite song. She fit perfectly against him, her swaying rubbing him in all the right places. When he pulled back to kiss her it was not his wife he held. It was her — Sylvanas.

Rid of her hood, her armor, _everything._ He hated her. He hated her so desperately for intruding into his memories. Genn fumbled with his belt and took his throbbing length imagining it was her hands, cold and soft, closing around his girth. Sylvanas smiled devilishly behind his eyelids. He kept his hand still, refusing to give into the impulse to pleasure himself while trapped in that illusion. The undead elf ran her fingers up his arms, taking hold of his neck, pulling him to her lips. Genn lost all control when her slick tongue slipped into his mouth swirling around his before retreating. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t pleasure himself to the thought of her. He moaned into his free hand, biting down on his palm to keep himself from being heard. It shamed him that he couldn’t stop, that he ran the length of his shaft, thinking of her — _imagining_ she was the one getting him off this horrific arousal.  

_Just this once._

_It will be enough to stop this madness._

Genn Greymane was utterly wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> I would say _Happy April Fool's_ , but I'm not kidding. Thank you, Lina, Jojo, and Bun. You're all responsible for this making it out "because the tag was so lonely." Rating might actually go up as it progresses — whenever that is. Needless to say: within the canon world, but deviating from canon events. And a crackship, through and through. Characters to be added as things take form. Not a priority fic.


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